Lyra, A Story
by Michi-tan
Summary: She was a one in a hundred chance—no, one in a million. It was so rare; her parents didn't even think it would happen.


_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything related to it. If I did, though, Harry would've married Draco, who happened to be a hermaphrodite, and had lovely little Malfoy/Potter babies. Oh well. C'est la vie. _

-.-.-

_April 4, 1974_

She was a one in a hundred chance—no, one in a million. It was so rare; her parents didn't even think it would happen. They treated her like parents should, gave her a baby brother eventually, and bought her everything she wanted. They all waited for the day their little girl would be sent to Hogwarts. But she never got the letter. Her 11th birthday came and went, and not a single spark of magic. Other pure-blood families started asking questions and her parents couldn't bear to answer them. So they killed her.

-.-.-

_October 5, 1991 (Harry's first year)_

Lyra Malfoy stared forlornly out the highest window of her spacious house seventeen years after her birth. Today was the day her family would send her away from her beloved England, to live her squib life in America. They did it at a time when Draco would be at school; she said she couldn't stand to her his crestfallen face when her father apparated her to her new home. Lyra didn't have any friends to be sad for her either due to the fact her parents had faked her death years ago to hide from embarrassment. She didn't blame them, though. If anyone found out she, the daughter of one of the more prestigious pure-bloods, was a squib, it would mean the end of the reputation they had spent generations building.

Her mother, her beautiful mother, walked into her attic room and laid a hand on her daughters shoulder. Lyra turned her head to look up at her, a silent plea hidden in her eyes. Narcissa shook her head lightly. They both sighed and walked out of the door and down the stairs. Her bags followed them down. Her mother must have spelled them when she wasn't looking.

They reached the foyer where her father waited, hands clasped behind his back. The younger woman embraced her mother, kissed her cheek, and said goodbye. A small, tawny owl hooted from beside her father and Lyra's face lit up inexplicably. She rushed at her father and hugged him tightly.

"I figured you would need some way to write letters to us," he whispered into her hair. The girl smiled at him.

"Thank you," she said, "I love him."

With a final wave to her mother, she grasped her things tightly while Lucius gently held her shoulder. After a tight pull at her navel, they arrived in her apartment in New York City. The complex was a wizard's only building, but strings were pulled, and now Lyra lived there. She had an entire floor to herself, already furnished and prepared.

She drank in the sight of the city outside the large windows of the sitting room. The cars she had read so much about in books sped by below her on some errand or another.

Her father coughed. "Lyra, if you need anything, just send the owl, alright?"

"Yes, father," she replied. He kissed her forehead and promised to come back with Narcissa and Draco for holiday break. The blond wandered around the spacious apartment after her father left, exploring every single nook and cranny there was. At 6:00, she sat on the plush, green couch in front of the window and waited for the sun to set. Lyra started to doze when someone knocked on the door.

"H-hello?" she stuttered as she opened the door, not used to doing so. This was the first time in years she had talked to another living person besides her family. The teen started feeling lightheaded.

"Hi. I heard you were new to the building, so I thought I'd come and say hello." A young man, mid-twenties, stood on the other side. He was quite handsome, with curly mahogany hair and happy green eyes. He was quite obviously American.

"Thank you," Lyra said faintly, "Would you like to come in?"

He shook his head. "I've got to go into the State Ministry for a night shift. Thanks, though. By the way, I'm Taylor. Taylor Hotchman."

"Lyra," she said.

"How about coffee tomorrow, Lyra?" he asked.

She smiled radiantly. "I'd like that.

-.-.-

_December 25, 1993 (Harry's third year)_

Lyra blushed as she gazed at herself in the full length mirror. Her pure white, strapless gown perfectly hugged her curves and complimented the woman's every feature. Narcissa straightened her daughter's bodice, tears of joy spilling out of her eyes. Last alterations to her hair and makeup were interrupted by a pudgy lady throwing the door open and babbling unintelligibly.

"Nancy, calm down," the bride laughed. Her mother took a step back. She had always been uncomfortable around the muggles her daughter had befriended and she always stood as far away as possible. Nancy breathed in deeply and repeated what she said.

"It's time! They're ready! Oh, Lyra, he's so handsome." They bustled her out into her father's waiting arms. They embraced, linked arms, and walked to the vestibule.

"He'd better treat you right," Lucius muttered.

His daughter giggled. "He will with you breathing down his neck, father."

They were nearing the doors and as they did, Lyra got fidgety. When the tall, double doors started creaking open, Lyra almost bolted. Only the fact that her father had gripped her arm to keep her from doing so kept her in place. The suddenly panicked girl cast him a glance which he could tell had despair and anxiousness and joy all rolled up into one. He patted her hand to reassure her.

Another muggle was on the other side of the door and handed Lyra her bouquet, made of white roses and tulips. She kissed the bride on both cheeks and took her seat, tears leaking out of the corner of her eyes. The Malfoy's daughter kept her head down to better avoid looking at everyone. Anxiety gnawed at her stomach. She took to staring at the beaded hem of her white dress. It had been passed down through her mother's family for generations. The honor of wearing it overwhelmed her nervousness and she finally looked up. Out of all the muggles and American wizards and witches, only about three stood out.

First, her little brother. Draco had used some of the mousse Lyra had given him for his birthday to slick back his pale blond hair. The suit he wore was a light shade green that complimented his features, as green usually did for the Malfoys. He turned his head back and grinned from ear to ear. That smile made her stomach unclench just a bit.

Next, her mother. She was so beautiful in the long sleeve, forest green dress. Stress lined her face, but Narcissa still found a way to smile at her daughter's wedding. When she saw that Draco was almost completely turned around in his seat, her mother cuffed him lightly on his ear. A quick glance at Lyra and they were both turned back around.

Lastly, her fiancé. The love of her life. Taylor had a black tuxedo on with a cream colored peony pinned to the collar. His best friend, Alan, stood beside him as the best man, looking proud as punch to be there. Taylor, though, had an expression of pure love and devotion on his flawless face. He gazed at her with joy filled eyes. Finally, she was calm.

Her father left her at the altar to go sit with the rest of her family. Lyra held Taylor's hand and they both looked at the priest, listening to him drone on and on. Every so often, they would steal glances at each other, silently asking when this would end.

"And do you, Lyra Malfoy, take this man to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?"

"I do."

"And do you, Taylor Hotchman, take this woman to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?"

"I most certainly do."

"Then you may kiss the bride," the priest finished, closing his big book. Taylor pulled his new wife to him and kissed her fiercely while everyone started to applaud. Her arms curled up around his neck, leg lifting in girlish pleasure.

"I love you," she whispered, hugging him tightly.

"I love you more," he said, pecking her nose.

-.-.-

_March 3, 1997 (Harry's sixth year)_

"Kristy, honey, let's go."

A little toddler with honey blond hair waddled toward her waiting mother. Lyra waited in front of the open apartment door, watching her daughter with adoration in her grey eyes. When the two year old reached her, she held her arms up and whined insistently. The woman struggled to lean down. Her swollen belly impeded her greatly.

"Kris, come here," her husband called from the hallway. The little girl giggled and trotted out to be picked up. Lyra followed her out. They were going to visit Malfoy Manor and, with all the Death Eaters crawling all over the place, decided to drop their daughter off at a daycare. Taylor apparated his family to the local wizard kid-care center: The Magic Touch. The center also took care of muggle children to better social learning. Lyra found that in the US, the wizarding world was all about muggle-wizard relations. Everything was co-ed, even if the muggles didn't know it.

Lyra kissed Kristy goodbye, feeling awful about leaving her child. Taylor assured her that this wasn't the last time they would see their baby and they left. The blond absentmindedly rubbed her stomach. The baby inside kicked and she smiled, loving the feel. She still had two months to go, but her doctor said there was a chance the birth would be early. All she hoped for was for it to be healthy.

They went through the 'rubber tube' of apparition to her parent's house. When they arrived, she could already tell something was wrong. The albino peacocks her father usually kept out were gone without a trace. The gates, which were always open, were shut to the outside world. Lyra cradled her belly gently and jogged to the iron gate. She laid a pale hand on the padlock.

"It's no use," he husband said, "They placed some kind of apparition block around the house. I can't get in."

"Could an owl get in?" she asked, but there was no need for the bird. A nervous, ratty looking man scurried out of the wooden double doors of the manor. He wrung his hands as he approached the couple. One of them was a metallic color, like quicksilver. Lyra was instantly repulsed by the pathetic man.

"What's your business?" he croaked, pulling a wand out of his dirty coat pocket.

Taylor stood a little straighter. "We're here to see Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, the owners of this house. May we come in?"

"You may leave," the man said shortly and turned. Lyra put her arm through the bars of the gate to touch his shoulder. He immediately whipped around to point the strip of magical wood in her face. The brunette by her side retaliated by casting a disarming spell.

"Please," she begged, "Can you at least bring them out here?"

A few moments later, her parents were walking calmly down the gravel path. Both looked like they'd seen better days. Wrinkles etched their foreheads and gray hairs were sprinkled like snow all through their hair. When they reached the closed gates, nobody moved a muscle. All was silent. The wretched man had left, leaving them to hug and kiss each other through the bars. But nobody dare try.

"Mother, why are they still here?" the pregnant woman whispered fearfully. Instead of answering her daughter, Narcissa turned to her son-in-law.

"Take your family someplace safe, Taylor," she said, handing him a piece of paper, "They do not need to be caught in the middle of this."

"What is she talking about, Father?" Lyra pleaded. Her husband started reading the piece of paper and his face went sheet white in a matter of seconds. He cast of look of despair at his in-laws and they nodded gravely. Taylor grabbed his wife's wrist immediately and disapparated. She almost shoved him off, but one should never do that while in the apparition process. When they arrived in their apartment, she flung his hand away, glaring daggers at him.

"Why the hell did you do that?" she shrieked. He winced; his wife never cursed unless she was extremely angry.

"Lyra, honey…" he whimpered. He was still in shock from the information on that little scrap of information.

"Don't 'honey' me! I get to see my parents twice a year and you go and take me away from them? Taylor, I demand you take me back!"

"He's there," he croaked, not unlike the little man who came to them at the manor.

Lyra blinked. "Who's there?"

"The Dark Lord," he murmured, terror seeping down his spine at the mention of the name. The blond in front of him paled and swayed on her feet. She didn't seem all there for a moment, instead someplace far away across the ocean. A panicked look crossed her face.

"Where is Draco in this mess?" she asked.

-.-.-

_Epilogue (20 years later) April 4, 2017_

"Cassiopeia Isla Hotchman, get down from the chandelier this instant!"

"Orion, you are seventeen years old! Stop turning your sister pink!"

It was chaos in the Hotchman household. Two of their children were arriving from halfway around the world to celebrate their mother's birthday and the house had to look acceptable. Unfortunately, this was no easy task. The kids who were still too young to leave their parent's care did not think a visit from their siblings was reason enough to clean. Cassiopeia, the youngest a ten years old, still hadn't gained control of her magic and was often seen hanging from the crystal chandelier in the foyer. Orion, third oldest and on Easter break, thought it was funny to turn his sisters pink whenever he wanted. Usually, he was picking on Vela, the eleven year old who was due to learn at Hogwarts in September.

There was a knock on the door and everybody froze in their places. The first to move was Lyra. She patted down her apron, fixed her hair, and scurried to the front door. On the other side stood her daughter, Kristy, and her son, Gregory, holding gift-wrapped boxes in their arms. As she ushered them in, Cassi suddenly dropped from the light fixture and fell through the air. She giggled all the way, and while falling this distance usually causes distress in normal society, no one moved to help her. Seconds before the little girl hit the ground, though, a beanbag appeared and she plopped into it, safe and sound.

"Sissy!" she squealed.

Lyra didn't care about the gifts her family gave her for her forty-third birthday. She didn't care about the handmade food her husband and her children cooked. And she especially didn't care for the almost-heart attack she got when her brother accidently apparated into her birthday cake. What she did care for, though, was the fact that everyone one was alive and well and that they were there. She couldn't have been happier.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

_And her scar hadn't pained her in seventeen years. Hehe, couldn't resist. Anyways, this is my rendition, I suppose, of 'What if Draco had a sister?' This turned out quite different than planned. She was supposed to be an outcast, with Draco only visiting in secret. He was also supposed to have a way bigger part. Oh well. It's done now. Remember to review, lovely readers~_


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